


Shadowland

by orphan_account



Category: E.R.
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Journey of a young boy after the tragic loss of his beloved brother.  John made promises he found he could not keep, what is a boy to do?<br/>His life changed so suddenly, and he has to cope, and try to fill his brothers shoes, Bobby, the first born son.  Will he succeed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day was sunny and bright, the sound of the mower a faint noise in the background, belying the darkness inside.  The deep melancholy silence, the overwhelming scent of too many flowers, their white petals in stark contrast to the dark elegant wood and cold hard tiles.

The small, slightly built boy curled up against the wall, trying to stay out of the way, feeling a stranger in his own home as the door opened and closed, then opened again.  The tears created hot salty tracks down his reddened cheeks, he could hear the footsteps, and then he was looking at shoes.  Two polished perfect shoes that he just knew belonged to his grandfather.

“What are you doing sitting here, John, you are supposed to be getting dressed.”  His voice was stern and unforgiving, striking fear into the boys heart.  “For goodness sakes, stop wallowing and get upstairs, I don’t want to see you blubbering like a girl.”

“Yes sir.”  John tried to make the words come out, but they were nothing more than a creaky whisper.

“What did you say?  Speak up.”  The hand came down unceremoniously and yanked him to his feet.  “Stand up straight, wipe your face and be good.  You need to be strong, your mother needs you to be strong.”

He did his best, straightening his back and wiping his face hurriedly with the back of his hand, then across his nose.  He heard the huff as a handerkerchief was stuffed into his hand.

“Act like a gentleman, you are a Carter, act like it.”  The hands now roughly pushed him towards the stairs and he complied, trying to mount the many steps with as much dignity as possible, despite the tears still threatening to break free any minute.

Once he was out of sight, he almost ran down the hall, shutting his door quickly, trying not to let it bang shut, before trekking to the bathroom.  He refused to look at himself in the mirror, instead splashing water on his face, wiping his nose yet again and finally patting his skin dry with a small fluffy towel.  His suit was hanging all ready to wear, he carefully changed, making sure all of his soiled clothing went into the hamper before donning the soft dark fabric.

He finally dared look at himself, patting down his hair where it stuck up, expertly tying the silk tie.  Something he had been forced to learn about the same time he walked, or so it seemed anyhow, he could do it blind folded, without a thought.  He inspected himself carefully, making sure he was properly and perfectly attired, tucking a fresh handkerchief in his own pocket.

Not that he would be allowed to use the soft perfectly ironed square, but he must not be without one.  His grandfather insisted, but he never quite understood why if he was not ever going to use it himself.  However one never argued with grandfather, it was just not done.

The soft tap on his door made him turn quickly, he was relieved when it opened to reveal his grandmother.

“John.”  The woman stepped into his room, scanning from head to foot, apparently approving, because she held out her hand, beckoning him.  “You are all dressed, good, the car is here.  You will ride with me today.”

This produced a quiet sigh of relief, and John nodded silently.  His parents were both lost in their own grief, and he had barely seen them the past few days.  He had come home after school with a heavy heart, just knowing that his brother was gone.  Bobby.  He was gone and never coming back, had left him alone, his main playmate, confident, and only brother had left him.

Not on purpose, John knew that.  Bobby had been incredibly sick for the past few months, and John had spent hours at the hospital and in his brothers room at home trying to keep him happy, trying not to let him be scared.  Wishing he could make his brother better.

He’d tried and failed.  He knew it was his fault that his brother was gone, the bone marrow transplant had failed, and John as the donor was surely responsible for that, wasn’t he?  It had hurt so much, the needles, being stuck with those torture devices, but he had gritted his teeth and bore it, not letting on how scary it was, not to his family at any rate.  The doctors though, they had been so kind, one of the nurses sitting and holding his hand, brushing fingers over his hair, telling him how brave he was, that it would be over soon.  Then they had given him ice cream and jello, let him watch television.

“John?”  Her voice was soft, but quizzical, and he realized he was standing frozen, he had not moved or responded and he finally willed his feet to carry him forward.  “It will be okay, John.”

Her warm hand took his and she led him down the hallway her words ringing in his ears.  It will be okay.  No, no, it never would be okay, never again would it be okay.  Bobby was gone.  He held it back, forcing the tears away, as if sheer will could make it all different.

Now they were in the car, he sat stiffly in his place on the leather seat, his grandmother beside him, staring out the dark tinted windows at the sky. John was not quite tall enough to see much, being only 10.  His grandmother reached over and patted his knee, noting his silence, but not breaking it.  He was glad, if she had started to talk to him, he might cry, and he must not cry.  I must not cry, I must not cry was running through his head non stop.

The limousine pulled up behind all of the others at the cemetery, and the driver opened the door.  John carefully slid out, making sure not to wrinkle his dark suit, inhaling the summer air deeply, it was already  starting to get hot out.  There was a flood of people, the light babble of voices, everyone heading towards the gravesite. He made to follow but his grandmother held him back, waiting for his mother and his half sister Barbara, then they proceeded as a group sitting in the front row under the small white cover, the open sided tent, that would keep the sun from blazing down on them.  

The scent was overpowering, the flowers, the ladies perfume and mens colognes mingling with the smell of fresh cut grass.  The profusion of white lilies and the picture of Bobby, it all imprinted indelibly onto his memory as he tried to sit still, in dignified silence as were the rest of his family.  He could hear his mother sniffling, and he reached into his pocket, offering his handkerchief, which she accepted wordlessly.  He could feel his grandmother squeeze his shoulder, he looked up at her and she gave him a slight nod, like he had done the right thing.

He watched as the pall bearers brought the small coffin, placing it on the pedestal and retreating, then the minister droning on, the words flowing over him without him truly registering a single one of them.  He sat in a haze, squeezing his eyes shut as the box containing his brother was lowered, then he took his turn as he’d been instructed, dropping a white rose on the top, and a handful of dirt.  

He went to wipe his hand on his pants, but saw the glare of his grandfather and wisely brushed his hands together, trying to resist the urge to let the tears break free.  

I will not cry, I will not cry, was still in his thoughts, but he could feel his eyes brimming, he felt the single tear escape and trickle down his cheek.  He tried to wipe it away unseen, but the gaze of his grandfather was on him, and he felt like he’d failed.  The stern look and slight shake of his grandfathers head made him bow his own head in shame, he had disappointed his family, and another tear managed to escape and drip off the tip of his nose before he regained control.

He had disappointed Bobby.  

“Be strong for them Johnny, when I am gone, you will need to make them happy.  Especially mother, promise me, pinky swear that you will make her happy Johnny, you know she is not strong like you are.”  His brother had weakly held out his hand extending his pinky finger, and John had complied, hooking his finger around the pale thin skin.  

Bobby had been barely recognizable by then, pasty white, thin as a rail, frail like he would shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

“I swear, I will make her happy.”  His own voice had been shaky, he didn’t argue, he had heard the whispered words, not meant for his ears.  He had known without a doubt his brother was dying, that he was leaving, going away and never coming back.  It would all be up to him now.

“Good, good.”  His brother had sunk back into his pillows, a deep sigh escaping him, his eyes closing as he drifted asleep as he so often did now without warning.

He didn’t have the strength to do anything, John would often sit with him for hours, trying to keep him entertained.  He had picked up the book on the bedside table, opening it carefully to the marked page and began to read out loud.  Bobby loved to hear stories, loved to read, but he could not longer do that for himself, so John did it for him.  He had reached over and adjusted the blanket slightly, pulling it up to cover Bobby so he would not get chilled as he slept.  Now there would be no way for John to keep him warm, he was going to be cold all by himself.

His grandmother had a hand on his shoulder, leading him away, he snuck a last look over his shoulder.

“Good bye.”  John said quietly to himself.  “Good bye.”


	2. Chapter 2

Disaster.  John was running through the woods now, not able to stand another minute.  His cheek burned, he was sure the imprint of his grandfather’s hand was still there.

John had disappointed him again, been dragged into his office upon their arrival at his grandparents house, his eyes tell tale red from all the tears he had shed .  His grandfather had noticed right away of course, and pulled him aside, telling him he needed to stop moping and be a good host.  John could not help the words that escaped from his lips.

“I miss him.”

“We all miss him John, but you need to be strong for your parents.  You can’t have them worrying about you, crying about it changes nothing.  Hold your chin high and get back out to our guests.”

“I can’t.”  John’s voice wavered and he felt the sting of the smart slap across his face.

“No back talk young man.”

“Truman.”  Millicent voice carried across the office, sharp as the slap had been.  

John felt her warm fingers on his shoulders, turning him towards the office door, the gentle push, and he knew he was excused, bolting from the room.  He stopped outside the door for a moment, hearing the raised voices in the room behind him, but not wanting or caring what they were saying.  He touched his cheek gingerly before he silently stole up the corridor and out the back door.  Freedom, the woods were only feet away from him, he wanted to lose himself in the forest.

It could be scary at times in the woods, but he, Chase and Bobby played in there all the time.  Well at least they had, until Bobby got sick, then suddenly there was only time for the hospital.  Hours of waiting, either with his brother, or at home, wondering what was going on, the dizzying whirlwind of trips to this hospital and that hospital, the endless sobbing of his mother.

He glanced over his shoulder as the coolness of the trees enveloped him, hid him from prying eyes.  It was a relief to be away from all the grief and sadness, the endless stream of questions, the pats on his head, like he was a puppy.

He took off, his feet flying over the deadwood and soft earth, not sure where he was going, it didn’t really matter.  He finally slowed his pace, stopping at the small stream where the three boys had played constantly, kicking at the sticks they had piled up as a pretend campfire.  They scattered, and he ran his shoe through the pile again, they were no longer neat and ordered, like his world, they were a mess.

He shuffled off sadly, having no destination in mind, blocking out the thoughts spinning through his head as he looked upwards at the towering trees, becoming a little afraid.  It was rare to be in here alone, they had always traveled as a group, a tight knit clan of three, but no longer, never again would they be together.  It made him shiver, there was a chill in the air now the sun not able to reach in amongst the thick vegetation and he didn't want to linger.

He couldn't know how long he wandered, but he ended up at his favourite place.  The stables.

He carefully cracked open the door, shutting it behind him quietly, stopping to listen to the soft stamping and wickers of the horses.  He trailed his fingers across the rough boards as he made his way down the row, stopping briefly to stick a hand into the basket, then finally stopping in front of one particular stall.

Marigold.

“Hi girl.”  He stroked her velvety nose as the horse recognized him, impatiently nuzzling at his outstretched hand, searching for the treat he usually brought for her.  He held his hand out flat, presenting her with her apple, she bit it daintily, her mouth tickling his palm as she retrieved her reward.

She was beautiful, a deep chocolate brown, quite a lot like his own eyes.  Like Bobby's eyes too, he missed Bobby, it was a constant ache in his heart, never far from his thoughts. 

He loved the horse though.  Strong, clear intelligent eyes gazed back at him, sensing somehow his need for comfort.  He unhooked the door and stepped inside, wrapping his arms around her long neck, resting his head against her smooth sleek coat .  He could feel her head turn, her warm breath blowing against his unruly mop, disturbed from its usual state by his flight through the woods.

The stables always calmed him, there was something relaxing and soothing about the animals.  John had been riding forever, taken on horseback before he could walk, held in his grandfathers arms.  Marigold had been a present from his grandparents, given to him not long before Bobby got sick.  Bobby never much cared for the horses, neither did his sister Barbara, but John could spend hours with them, and he often came up to help Frank tend to their needs.

“There you are, Gamma is looking for you.”  

John looked over to see his sister.  Half sister technically.  His mother's daughter, she was several years older than him, 16 years old now, and not often at home.  They weren’t close, she always teased and complained about her silly little brother tagging along after her, so he stayed away.

“Oh.  Why?”

“You are supposed to be back at the house Johnny, not hiding out here with your horses.  You’re getting your suit all dirty, grandfather is not going to be pleased with you.  You are going to be in big trouble.”  Her brown eyes were serious, for some reason she was being almost nice to him today.

John sniffled, remembering how his grandfather had struck him.  He had never been hit before, ever, his parents didn’t believe in it, and until now, he didn’t think his grandparents did either.  The idea of it hurt more than the physical pain, but the lesson had been learned, he shut down his emotions, steeling himself and forcing back the tears.  He was not going to cry in front of her, she would only tease him more if he did.  Never show weakness, even in the face of grief he was not to show his emotions in public.

He straightened up, and gave the horse a final pat before backing out of the stall, ineffectually trying to brush off the dirt and horse hair that was clinging to his expensive suit.

“Hey.”  Uncharacteristically, Barbara put her arm around his shoulders, giving him a hug.  “I miss him too.  It will be okay, you’ll see.”

How could it be okay?  Why did everyone keep saying that to him?  He didn’t understand, or maybe they just didn’t miss Bobby as much as he did.  But he nodded, playing along, no one understood how he was feeling.  No one asked, they just kept say meaningless words.

 “Is everyone still there?  At the house?”

“Not too many, you’ve been gone for hours and everyone is going home.”  Barbara took pity on her little brother and helped brush him off, and she smoothed his hair.  Honestly, he was a cute little guy she thought, maybe she should be nicer to him, especially now Bobby was gone.  He wasn't so bad really, just too much the baby to hang out with her and her friends.  “I think we are going to go back to Europe for a while, Jack is taking me back to stay with my dad, and so I can go back to school.”

“Are we?”  John was hopeful, he loved visiting in Europe, they always went out and did fun things, ate Gelato, went to museums, and had adventures.  

“Yes, I heard mom talking to Gamma Mill, she said we were leaving in a couple days.”

Barbara took his hand and led him back towards the house, shooing him into the bathroom to wash and clean up as best he could before dinner, hoping for his sake he could hide the evidence that he had been out in the woods.  Grandfather was not to be trifled with and Johnny was sure to catch it if his disarray was noticed.

 


	3. Chapter 3

It turned out he did not have to sit through dinner at his grandparents house, so he escaped the wrath of his grandfather.  Both for his disobedience in disappearing for the remainder of the afternoon, and for getting dirty in his new suit.

His father gathered them up, his mother Eleanor, Barbara and John, and they rode back in silence to the oppressively quiet house not far down the road.  John longed to cuddle up to his mother, to try to make her feel better as he had promised to do for Bobby, but she was on the opposite seat, withdrawn, speaking not a word as she stared woodenly out the window. Her tears had finally dried up, but now it was worse, there was no emotion whatsoever.

When they reached home his father bundled her into the house, leaving him to trail behind by himself, not a backward glance from anyone.  Even Barbara disappeared through the stately wooden doors, gone before he stepped onto the highly polished marble floor.

He stood forlornly in the foyer for a few moments staring up the grand curved staircase before he wandered into the kitchen as was his habit.

The kitchen was his favourite place in the whole world, it was always warm, often bustling with activity as their cook Maria prepared the family meals.  Today though, it was silent, the staff not expecting them back for dinner.  Indeed it was close to 8 pm he realized when he looked at the clock, he had missed having lunch and dinner, and now his stomach was rumbling.

No matter, there always seemed to be something in the fridge, he pulled open the door, so cleverly hidden in the cabinetry no one would suspect their was a massive selection of goodies just waiting to be plundered.  He dug around, grabbing a selection and placing it on the large granite island.  Not that he really felt all that hungry, it was more of a habit, the thought that he should eat rather than wanting to eat.

He picked at a few bits, then sighed, putting it all back in the fridge again, remembering how he and Bobby and sometimes Chase would sneak into the kitchen and find hidden goodies in the fridge.  It wasn’t the same without them.

John silently mounted the stairs, absently wandering down the hallway, stopping outside his parents room, resting his palm on the door.  He had not been alone with either of his parents for over a week, in fact they had barely even acknowledged his existence.  He stepped back, almost walking into the nanny, who had appeared from nowhere.

“You should go to your room, your father asked that I make sure you bathe and then it is time for bed.”  

John nodded, continuing down the hallway and into his room.  He did as he had been told, though he was not sure why he still had a nanny, none of his friends at school did.  He didn’t even know her very well, she had been around for a very short time, maybe a couple of months, hired after the last one quit unexpectedly.  He ran a tub of hot water, sinking in and washing thoroughly, using the fragrant shampoo that smelled like the lilac bushes out back,  before wrapping up in a fluffy towel and finding his pyjamas.  

He slid between cool crisp sheets with just the bedside light on for comfort, picking up the book he was reading to Bobby just before he died.  The Chronicles of Narnia, a magical tale of the four siblings and their adventures as they escaped their world through a wardrobe.  John wished life could be so wonderful, that he and Bobby had been able to have an adventure like that before his brother died.  He carefully opened the book, savouring a few more of the pages before turning out his light and staring at the ceiling.  It took a long time to fall asleep, but exhaustion finally won, his eyes drifting shut on his topsy turvy world.

* * *

He was startled as his curtains were pulled back, letting in the bright light.

“Time to get up.”  The nanny was moving briskly about the room.  “Tsk, you didn’t put away your things last night.

John was still barely awake, rubbing his eyes sleepily, wondering what he had missed.  He was diligent about cleaning up after himself, slovenly, messy behaviour was strictly taboo in this house, there were never coats left unhung, untended backpacks or dirty socks balled up in corners.  The house was simply spotless and perfect at all times.  One never knew when guests would arrive.

She held up his clothes from yesterday, fussing over the dirt on his suit, hanging it neatly on the hangar, the shirt going into the hamper.

“I will put this to be cleaned, you young man need to get dressed and down for breakfast.”

“Yes ma’am.”  He didn’t argue, he never did.  He went in to the bathroom, quickly washing up and taming his hair with a comb, then dressed in the clothes that had been laid out on his bed.  

He noted as he traversed down the hallway that his parents bedroom door was still shut tight, it was utterly silent.  Down the stairs and into the breakfast room he went, Barbara and his father were already there, but no sign of his mother.

“John, about time you got out of bed.  Eat, then you may go play.”  His dad said shortly as a plate appeared on the table in front of John.

“Where is mom?”  He looked around expecting her to appear any minute.

“She is resting, please don’t make too much noise, she needs her sleep.”

John ate, the only sounds the small noises of forks and knives clinking softly against the china plates.  

“May I go to Marcy’s?”  Barbara laid her fork and knife carefully across her plate, signifying she was finished with her plate.

“Yes, you take the car.  Be home for dinner.”

“Yes sir.”  She rose and departed.

John took his last bite then did the same with his knife and fork.

“May I be excused?”

“Yes, remember what I said, be quiet for your mother so she can rest.”

John nodded quietly and left the table.

The next few days played out much the same, the house silent, his dad locking himself away in his office, his mother shut up in their bedroom and Barbara disappearing off the premises.  No one seemed to have a thought about him, his friends all in school, it being the beginning of May.  John asked his father if he might go back to school soon, he had been out for a couple weeks now and no one seemed to be in a hurry for him to return.

Finally the next Monday he was allowed to return, and he felt life was getting back to normal, except for the fact that his mother was a ghost.  He had not seen or spoken to her in what seemed like forever, she took her meals in her room, and the door was always closed.  John had not been allowed into their room, and he knew he was failing her, failing Bobby, he was not making her happy.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Finally it was Saturday, the first one since John had gone back to school. He was looking forward to it, there had been quiet murmurs here and there about Paris. Then maybe a foray down to Southern France, maybe even Italy.

He would miss his friends, and Marigold while he was gone, but France...playing on the beach in Cannes or Nice, or eating the Gelato in Italy. What excited him the most though was whenever they went to Europe he spent time with his parents. His mom had been barely visible for weeks and his dad was either locked in his study, away doing business or hidden in the bedroom with his mother.

Barbie was packing already hopping happily at the thought of going back to Paris, going to live with her dad for the summer. John felt like the lucky one this time though, she would be stuck in Paris during the heat of the summer, through the droves of tourists flocking from parts unknown to see the Notre Dame, and to visit all the museums.

John was anxious all weekend, waiting for instructions, never being able to pin anyone own long enough to find out when they were leaving. He tried to keep busy, spending lots of time with Marigold, knowing it would be months before he saw her again, not until September when he came back for school.

Sunday late in the afternoon his father finally called him into the study, John sat expectantly in the chair, his knee bouncing in anticipation.

"John. You have been barely home the past couple of days."

"I was riding, visiting Marigold." He smoothed his pants over his knees then folded his hands neatly in his lap.

"Good, good, I appreciate you have been keeping out of the way, making sure you don't disturb your mother. I needed to discuss something with you." His dad sipped the golden liquid in the short glass, the ice clinking as he put it back on the coaster. "It is time to get Barbara back to Paris."

"Yes sir." John nodded, the anticipation making him squirm.

"I need you to be attentive to the nanny while we are gone, and of course keep at your school work."

The nanny? While we are gone? He tilted his head slightly, trying to make sense of the instructions.

"Who is going?"

"I thought it would be good for your mother to get out of Chicago, out of this house for a while, but she cannot travel alone, and we need to accompany Barbara to Paris. The three of us will go, and your mother and I will return as soon as possible. In the meantime, you need to finish out the school year."

"I'm not going with you?" John asked in a timid voice.

"No, no, not this trip. Your mother needs peace and quiet, and as I said before, you need to finish up with school. Don't worry, the staff will make sure you are fed, and take care of the usual duties. You won't be alone."

"Oh. I want to go with you." He felt the tears threaten, fighting them down, remembering the slap from his grandfather the last time he dared cry.

"John. You know better than to question my decisions. Your mother has not been well and she needs rest, peace and quiet, and she cannot have that with a small boy underfoot. You will be fine here at home. Now, you have school in the morning, off you go." His father waved dismissively.

"Yes sir." He dared not argue further, he was being let go, maybe he could get his father to reconsider over the next few days.

The next morning John rose as soon as his alarm clock rang, knowing he must be on time for school, and now the weather was fine, he was riding his bike rather than being taken in the car. He dressed quickly in his uniform, brushing his hair before he ran downstairs for breakfast. His father was there, finishing a final cup of coffee.

"Good morning father." John said politely as he sat in his chair.

"John." His dad took another sip of coffee. "Good, you are on time for school. Remember what I said, I expect you to be the man of the house while we are away."

"When are you leaving?"

"This morning. We will be on the plane by 10 am, so when you come home, the cook and the nanny will make sure you are fed. You may go riding, but make sure you are home before dark and come straight home every day after school and do your homework before anything else."

John nodded woodenly. Today? They were leaving already?

"May I say good bye to mother?"

"She is still sleeping, you may speak with her tonight on the phone. I don't want you to bother her. Now finish your breakfast and brush your teeth, you don't want to be late."

John picked at his food, forcing down each bite, the pancakes he usually loved tasting like sawdust. He was saddened, disappointed that he was to have no chance to go on this trip. All he could hope was that they would return soon or send for him once school was done for the year. Another whole month before the end of June arrived.

His father excused himself long before John was done eating, so he left the remains and brushed his teeth. He picked up his school bag, stopping to rest a hand on his parents bedroom door on his way by.

"Good bye mother." He said in a tiny quiet voice, not wanting to wake her lest his father get into a temper.

With that he trudged down the stairs, taking his bike from its spot inside the door of the garage and peddled slowly up the long drive. He knew by the time he got home, the house would be emptier and quieter than usual.


	5. Chapter 5

John fell into the routine, up at the first ring of his alarm, downstairs for breakfast, back up to brush his teeth, then out the door for school.

He loved school, mostly anyhow. The smell of the book pages, the crisp sheets of paper as he took copious notes. He never minded the learning, the classes, as much as the other boys grumbled about them.

His mind was like a sponge, absorbing everything. Not that he was considered brilliant by any of his teachers, he failed miserably at tests, but he loved to learn, especially when he could experiment. Science was his favourite class of all time, they got to touch, build, and play with things, learn how they worked.

It was something that drove his parents crazy, how he would constantly be wanting to take things apart, see how they worked, his curiosity. It often earned him punishments, especially when they were things he was not really supposed to opening or deconstructing.

When he was three, his favourite question was 'why?'. He remembered his dad sending him off to play many times, because his questioning got too much for him.

The games at school were fun too, running around the playground with the other boys, chasing the soccer ball, or playing softball. At school he could be like everyone else, they didn't seem to care who he was, or worry about him not getting dirty or 'acting like a Carter' as he was always being reminded to do at home. He had friends, and of course his cousin Chase went to the same school and they would often hang out together.

After school was a different matter, he was expected to come straight home and do his homework. This was not such a big deal, he supposed, he worked hard and he was usually able to finish within the hour, then he was free until dinnertime. He would meet up with Chase and they would ride their bikes over to his grandparents house, disappearing into the woods, or going up to the stables and taking their horses for long rides on the property.

Today was different, Chase had not been at school, so he went alone, quietly letting himself into the stable.

"John, how would you like to help me groom the horses? Then we can work in the riding ring." Frank ruffled his hair.

He loved being around Frank, who was a kindly older man who had a way about him, especially with the many horses requiring his attentions.

"Okay." He automatically started gathering supplies, he'd helped often enough, he knew exactly what to do.

"Start with Marigold, then you can help me with the others."

John got an apple from the basket in the tack room, letting Marigold take it from his hand with a satisfying crunch, before leading her out into the main part of the horse barn. He dropped the lead onto the floor, he never bothered tying her, she was well mannered and used to him, she would not even try to go anywhere.

He and Frank worked well together, the older man keeping up a steady stream of conversation, telling John everything that was going on with the horses.

"Thunder needs some exercise, I think I will take him for a long run later, you could come, we can put you on Lightening. How would you like to take Marigold on a few jumps? I think its time you moved to the intermediate ring."

"Can I?" John was excited, he had been riding for years, but had been only allowed the very low 'baby jumps' as he called them. "Today?"

"Sure, I think you and Marigold are working well together, time to move up, but you need to work her in the ring first, warm her up. I'll finish up here, you can saddle up."

John moved quickly, efficiently, and was ready and into the ring in no time, moving Marigold through the pylons, running her through her paces, the drills he was used to doing with her.

"Nice, very elegant, you have a great seat on that horse. Time to give those jumps a try?" Frank clapped lightly, letting John know it was a job well done. Frank was the most encouraging and kind adult in his life, aside from Corinne, his grandmothers cook. She always slipped him some of her fresh baking, let him watch her cooking in the kitchen.

John nodded, taking Marigold through, feeling a rush of pride, the fact he was being trusted, told what he had done right was a rarity these days. IT seemed lately all he did was wrong, he disappointed everyone more than made them proud.

He carefully lined her up, doing a slow canter around the jumps first, letting her get used to the ring before he tackled the first one. He had studied the route enough times, walked it endlessly with Frank as he pointed out the difficulties and approaches he should take to each jump. He let the rhythmic hoofbeats on the soft turf lull him, relax him, letting his confidence flow through the reins to Marigold, he could feel the horse responding, relaxing in turn.

Despite appearances though, his mind was running at full speed, it was a bit scientific really, and his mind ate up the details, he'd committed them to memory long ago.

"Whenever you're ready." Franks calm voice floated over the air.

John took her around one last time before he set her pace, keeping the reins tight so she would not take control from him. They launched gracefully over the first jump, the landing slightly rough, but he stayed the course, not letting the small hiccup bother him.

"Great, loosen up the reins just a touch." He automatically gave a bit, just before they were flying over the second jump.

It was magical, though he knew they were not perfect. He felt her quiver slightly as her hoof brought down one of the rails on the fourth jump, but they recovered and went faultlessly over the last three. He slowed her, letting her do a cool down lap before bringing her in to where Frank was standing.

"That was a good first attempt. You were a bit tense at points, but you kept your head, Marigold was responding well, you held control. Great job."

John smiled. "Thanks, that was fun, can we do it again?"

Frank gauged the horse, then nodded.

"Yes, one more time, then we should give you both a break."

The second round went even more smoothly than the first, John was elated and Frank patted him on the back.

"I knew you were ready, you ran the route perfectly."

"Why did it take so long for you to let me?"

"You can't rush preparation John. The worst mistake is to try and push too hard too soon, you risk injuring yourself or your animal. Marigold is a fine horse, but you both needed to be equally ready and in tune with each other. Now I know you are both ready for the next level. We might even talk your grandfather into allowing us to enter a junior competition, you're good enough."

"I would like that." John nodded emphatically, he would love to take this skill to the next level.

The rest of his time was taken up with a ride out onto the property, then he rushed home to clean up for dinnertime.

The next few days were much the same, sometimes with Chase, sometimes without when his cousin had homework to do. Chase was not as diligent about homework and was often stuck at home completing lessons while John went to the ring to work with Marigold.

He loved being out of the house, it was still so quiet and lonely there. The calls from his parents had been few, and his dad had been evasive on when he might be allowed to join them in France. His 11th birthday had even come and gone, without any comment from anyone. He had felt down that day, it had been a Saturday, rainy, with thunder and wind, and he'd been confined to the house, not even able to escape for a long ride on Marigold.

To make it even worse, Chase was talking about how his family was going to be leaving as soon as school was done, going on a summer holiday, and John felt his heart drop. He would be even more alone soon.

He moped, no better word for it, he found himself in the library, running his finger down the spines of the many books. He started at the soft feminine voice.

"My apologies, I was just doing some dusting, I will get out of your way."

The voice was coming from one of the maids. John shrugged.

"It's okay, you can finish, I was just going to pick a book and go to my room." He continued down the shelf until he found one that looked interesting.

"Hmmm, I read that one too, it was pretty good."

He was unused to the staff engaging him in conversation, they usually tried to blend into the background. He looked at her curiously.

"Nicole." She smiled at him, her blue eyes dancing. John noticed she was quite pretty, she had soft blond hair that fell in waves to her shoulders, which was unusual in itself, the maids usually had their hair tied up in a bun or braid.

"John."

"Yes, I know." Her grin was cheeky. "You might like this one better." She pulled a book off the shelf, holding it out to him.

John was skeptical, he stared at the title for a moment.

"Try it, see what you think."

"Okay." John tucked the book under his arm, along with his original selection and left the room, he could hear her humming as she continued on with her work.


	6. Chapter 6

John brushed his hand through his thick brown hair, scooping the stray strands from his eyes. It was irritating, getting too long and always hanging in his face, but no one seemed to notice except for him. He stared at himself in the mirror, his brain trying to make sense of everything.

The days were long and sunny now, but the routine had stayed much the same, with the exception he spent more time at the stables with Frank. His grandparents had gone off to New York, or so he'd heard, there was not much staff around, Corrine the cook and most were off on their own holidays, taking advantage of the fact their employers were gone for most of June.

Frank had been letting John help more and more with the horses, Chase grounded as his grades had been faltering, leaving John with more time on his hands. Someone he didn't mind, Frank had let him take Marigold on increasingly more challenging rides over the past weeks and he was getting quite comfortable.

"Perfect, that was beautiful." Frank patted his knee as he brought the shiny brown horse to a full stop. "Keep working with her every day and you are going to be some serious competition. Once your grandparents get back from New York I will discuss perhaps letting you ride in some of the upcoming events. Get her groomed and you should get home for some dinner."

"Thanks!" John hopped down quickly, taking Marigold into the stables, stroking her neck lovingly.

After a thorough brushing, he rewarded her with an apple, then jumped on his bike for the short pedal home.

After cleaning up and changing out of his horse hair covered riding clothes and having a quiet dinner, he located his most recent book and headed to the library. It had become a ritual now, he devoured books quickly in any case, but he made a point of going every evening for a new one so he could spend more time with her, the stack on his bedside table growing.

He thought about how it had started.

_"You made it, I had almost given up on you." Nicole dusted slowly as John silently shut the heavy wooden door behind him._

_"Lost track of time at the stables."_

_"What did you think?" She sat primly on the edge of the overstuffed chair, John in the opposite one._

_"Good, but I liked the one before better."_

_"Why?"_

_The launched into a discussion about the finer points of the novel, and John wondered how she knew so much about books._

_"You must read a lot too," John said as they perused the shelves for his next read._

_"I do...I was in university, but I ran out of money, and I am working and saving up to go back in the fall. I'm an English major, I love reading and its fun, you know? I can tell you really love books too."_

_"Yes, I used to read a lot to my brother...before he died," John said sadly, tracing the gold letters on the front of the book in his hands._

_"You must miss him."_

_"Yes, it's...lonely here without him." John looked away, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes._

_"Kind of a big house, where are your parents anyway?"_

_"France? Italy?" He shrugged, his shoulders drooping, the sense of abandonment striking him again sharply._

_He jumped at her touch, her hand rubbing his shoulder._

_"I'm sorry." Her voice was soft and soothing, making him relax as she pulled him closer for a hug._

_She smelled lovely, slightly floral, sweet, even with the undertone of lemon scented cleaners that were used frequently in the house. He let her wrap her arms around him, leaning his head on her shoulder, it had been so long since anyone had shown him any sort of affection, he could not help himself._

_He was unsure how long they stood there, she rubbed the back of his neck gently, finally letting him go._

_"Best not mention that." She gave him a secretive smile. "See you tomorrow?"_

_"Yes." He whispered, his emotions running wild, his body reacting in a way he didn't truly understand. His knees felt a little weak, and he felt a stirring...down there...which happened more often of late, he'd noticed. He turned away so she would not notice, taking a few deep breaths._

_Little did he know this was just the beginning. It all seemed innocent enough at first, he would find little things in his room, a chocolate bar under his pillow, or an extra book added to the pile on his nightstand._

_The meetings in the library continued, and it seemed they grew closer, she would put her arm around him, or sit close on the sofa, pat his knee, it seemed almost sisterly in some ways, but...not quite._

_"See you later John." Nicole gave him a small wink, he smiled and nodded, slightly confused._

_She usually said goodnight, or see you tomorrow, this time it was...see you later?_

_He pondered it through his bath time, and as he brushed his teeth and donned his light sleep pants and shirt. He cracked the window a few inches, letting in the fresh summer breeze, it had been hot the last few days, almost stifling. He slid between the crisp sheets, leaving on just the top one on, it was too warm for much else._

_He dozed off, waking slowly at the feel of hands brushing across his hair._

_"Shhh, it's just me." He recognized the voice, he was still half asleep. "It's okay."_

_"Nicole?" He mumbled sleepily._

_"Yes, relax, it's all right." Her cool lips touched his forehead, then his own lips, lightly, once, twice, three times._

_He inhaled deeply, thinking he must be dreaming, enjoying her subtle scent, her gentle hands on his bare skin...he relaxed...his mind and body felt disconnected from reality._

_"Go back to sleep." Her lips touched his again after it was over. "Goodnight sweet prince, remember this is our little secret."_

_He rolled, burying his head into the pillow, drifting off again, feeling slightly odd, the words echoing in his mind, it all happened so quickly, it wasn't real, could not have happened...could it?_

_The next morning he had awoken, feeling like he'd had some sort of fantastic dream, certain that he had been fantasizing about her._

Now he knew though...he wasn't dreaming, and her night time visits had continued, making him very confused. It felt so wrong, he felt guilty, but...it also felt wonderful, Nicole was the only person in the entire household who paid him any attention, showed affection, they had a special secret between them, and if he told they would make her go away.

Her visits had become longer every night, she taught him things, unimaginable things, and his body craved more even as his mind struggled in a war between guilt, shame, and...love.

_"I love you sweet prince, remember its our little secret."_

She never failed to say it, every night, her parting kiss sweet and gentle, she was soft, tender, holding him closely for as long as she dared before tiptoeing back to her room. Someone loved him.


End file.
